


Feigning Fangs

by silvease



Category: original character - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4587168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvease/pseuds/silvease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Some OC smut prompt that I've been too lazy to finish. My prose strayed from this already so it's quite difficult to resume. Perhaps one day...</p>
    </blockquote>





	Feigning Fangs

**Author's Note:**

> Some OC smut prompt that I've been too lazy to finish. My prose strayed from this already so it's quite difficult to resume. Perhaps one day...

He notices her trembling.

There was something beautiful in the way she breathed against the wetness of his skin. Sweat was shared between the two, used in mannerisms exceeding their usual politeness. Yet it reeked of tranquility, as if the way his tongue slid upon the curves of her body was natural. It dragged her into her personal preference of peace, and if she was to admit, she enjoyed the way he would raise his brows to question the meaning behind her heated moans – if such sound of pleasure elicited from the hands that crawled upon her being, or if it was to simply connote that she knew it would please him the most.

Anger would sometimes appear in his calm eyes, contradicting the kindness she sought and fought him for several hours until he returns to his defenseless shell, and she would embrace him for as long as he wanted and needed. It was what made her plead for his presence all the more, and that, at the end of every day, her curiosity and interest in the deepest corners of his scars would be aroused once again. It scared her at times. She feared that his madness might eventually lead to him discovering his previous self that he already discarded, and that would mean his permanent isolation, and that’s the last thing she would ask of him.

However, she seeks his rage in bed tonight.

She traces the roughness of his own palm and silently directs him to take a hold of her neck, wordlessly requesting him to grace her with his own version of war. There was no definition accurate enough to describe the inevitable confusion that marched upon his nearly exhausted face. Lips ajar and gaze fixated, he wondered, which of this was simply a facade they chose to keep?  He did not want to do her wrong and so he inquired if she had gone sick of his gentleness, or if it was truly not what she expected of him in the first place. Beneath him, she would lift her head to press her lips against his chin. It may not be enough of an act to let him know that it was never the case and he had it all mixed up. However, she had the greatest trust in him, and despite being showered with his love every hour of every day, she desires to see him at his worst.

Ruthlessness and one-sided violence.


End file.
